


in your eyes (i find my salvation)

by rudderless in an ocean of stars (indelibly_ellie)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, F/F, F/M, Past Abuse, Prompt Fill, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, You Have Been Warned, lots of messed up shit okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelibly_ellie/pseuds/rudderless%20in%20an%20ocean%20of%20stars
Summary: Somewhere out in the multi-verse, Kara Danvers is just Kara zor-El, the young woman who was orphaned at the age of four and passed around like a broken toy until she got old enough to stand on her own two feet.Now, she's a newly minted reporter working her dream job at CatCo Worldwide Media, and Lena Luthor's the young, brilliant C.E.O. she's sent to interview for her first article.Lena Luthor, on the other hand, was born into a life of privilege. But everything comes at a cost, and she's certainly no exception to the rule.Looking to start fresh in National City after the scandal that her parents worked so hard to bury about her brother, she finds herself pleasantly surprised and more than a little intrigued by the bright-eyed reporter sent to interview her about her company's alien detection device.Inspired by an anonymous prompt asking me to play around with my usual setup and make Kara the one in need of support rather than Lena.Features all the SuperFriends, with minor adjustments.STATUS: June 22, 2017 - Chapter Four UP!





	1. the brightest star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter doesn’t delve too deeply into the details, but this story will deal with topics like abuse, self-harm, and suicide, so turn back now if that’s something you don’t want to be reading.
> 
> I intended for this to be a oneshot, but the story took on a life of its own and will likely have at least three chapters. 
> 
> I'd say enjoy, but... :/

Sometimes, she forgets to breathe.

 

It catches her off-guard, the subtle burn of her lungs that reminds her that she is once again holding her breath, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to hurt.

 

Waiting for someone to hurt _her_.

 

Because that is what she has been raised to know better than anything else; the secret language of blood clotting and edging around fist-broken blood vessels and the spidery trails they would lay out in contrast to her pale skin. The whispers in her veins that made her feel cold inside whenever she had to stand in front of a mirror and decide exactly what to wear to hide her bruises.

 

She has known pain to the extent where a day without injury is a day that she has trouble fitting into her distorted sense of reality. Whether it is a bruise, a cut, even a broken bone, a physical manifestation of her shortcomings is something she has doesn’t- she _can’t_ \- remember ever having lived without until she’d finally gotten old enough to fight _back_.

 

Five.

 

That’s how old she was when it started.

 

What she had done to merit punishment, what was said, none of it registers clearly in her faded remembrances of the past she had spent so long dulling in cheap motel rooms with even cheaper alcohol. But as much as she would like to call those memories forgotten, there is still a scared little girl inside of her that makes her presence known through frigid hands squeezing air from her lungs just to remind her that breathing didn’t always come so easily.

 

She’s twenty-four now, six years out of the system that had kept her moving from one hellhole to the other just long enough for her temporary guardians to collect the check and send her back out onto the streets to be picked up by the police and sent back to the foster care program where she was nothing but another number to tick off, another burden to house, another mouth to feed, another body to clothe.

 

She’s twenty-four now, fresh out of college on a scholarship that she’d worked herself ragged to earn. It wasn’t easy, maintaining her grades while switching from school to school on a monthly basis. It hadn't been easy, but she'd done it.

 

She’s twenty-four now, two whole decades away from the tragedy that had simultaneously robbed her of her parents and shoved her into the endless cycle of abuse that had dominated her life until she’d aged out of being a ward of the state.

 

She’s twenty-four now, working her dream job as a reporter for CatCo Worldwide Media- so why does everything still feel so wrong sometimes?

 

She’s twenty-four now, a capable adult, with friends close enough to call family- so why does she still feel like she’s drowning?

 

The quiet hiss of the elevator doors sliding open interrupts her train of thought, the sight of the spacious hall stretched out before her reminding her exactly where she is and what she’s supposed to be doing.

 

Snapper’s words echo in her ears as she makes her way towards the secretary’s desk.

 

_“I don’t care how you do it- scale the side of the building for all I care, zor-El- but I want a statement from that Luthor girl about her alien detection device and a thousand words on my desk before sundown.”_

 

Kara glances down at the nameplate- Jess.

 

The other woman holds up a slim, well-manicured hand and gestures towards the bluetooth device clipped to her ear, flashing an apologetic smile as she listens the voice on the other end of the line. “Of course. I’ll put you into her schedule as soon as a slot opens up… Yes, I will, of course… You’re welcome… Goodbye.”

 

“And how may I help you today?” Her sharp gaze quickly finds Kara’s press badge. “CatCo, huh?”

 

“Yeah, I’m Kara- I called earlier about the possibility of getting a statement-”

 

“Ah, right. Must be your lucky day- she’s actually in right now and expecting you.” She stands, moving out from behind her desk as she gestures for Kara to follow. “Right this way, Miss zor-El.”

 

From what she’s seen in pictures, Kara knows that Lena Luthor is pretty.

 

Dark hair, pale skin, startlingly green eyes, and the kind of fey features you’d expect to see plastered across billboards or television screens. It was obvious even from grainy tabloid shots shot by the paparazzi that Lena Luthor was a beauty.

 

But ‘pretty’ doesn’t even begin to cover what she looks like in person.

 

Green eyes meet blue, and for a second, Kara stands speechless.

 

Lena Luthor is gorgeous.

 

“You must be the reporter, right?” The barest hints of an Irish accent lace her words. “From CatCo?”

 

“Y-yes,” Kara stammers out, hurrying forward to shake the C.E.O.’s extended hand. “Kara zor-El.”

 

Lena levels a warm smile in her direction, and Kara works hard to keep herself from turning even redder than she already has.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Kara. Please, have a seat.”

 

“Thank you.” She holds up a slender, silver-grey recorder. “Would you mind-?”

 

Lena shakes her head, leaning back in her seat, adopting a surprisingly casual pose as she abandons the paperwork in front of her. Kara switches on the recorder and sets it down on the edge of the desk.

 

“So,” she starts, and all Kara notices is that her smile is still wonderfully warm, “Am I right in assuming you’re here about one of my company’s latest developments?”

 

“Yes,” she says, suddenly grateful for the notes she’d jotted down on her way to the building, “I’d like to ask you about the alien detection device your company recently announced.”

 

“Ah, _that_.” Lena’s nose wrinkles in dismay. “It’s become quite a polarizing topic of debate.”

 

Kara hums in agreement, bouncing the top of her pen against the notepad in her lap. “Yes. Our readers are curious about your own personal views on the matter, Miss Luthor.”

 

“Lena,” the brunette corrects sharply, and it’s the hardest tone Kara’s heard the woman take since she set foot in the room. “Please, call me Lena.”

 

“Of course.” She keeps her expression carefully neutral, but makes a mental note to find out the reason behind the C.E.O.’s reluctance to go by her last name. “Lena, this device has been called ‘anti-alien.’ Would you agree with that description?”

 

“Honestly? No.”

 

“Can you elaborate?”

 

“Of course.” Lena shifts in her seat, shoulders straightening somewhat, an air of regality settling around her like a cloak. Kara firmly pushes down the sudden urge to adjust her own pose accordingly. “This device’s only function is to identify non-human entities residing on this planet. It is meant to inform, not persecute. My company fully intends to comply with the President’s new decree concerning aliens taking refuge on Earth. Law enforcement will have access to this device, provided they have the authority to use it to identify humanoid aliens deemed a threat to the safety of others. Beyond that, we have no wish to expose anyone who does not wish to reveal their planetary origin.”

 

“So your company has no plans to market this to the general public for commercial use?”

 

“None whatsoever. There are too many groups out there with questionable motives concerning aliens here on Earth, and I, for one, do not intend on helping them achieve that agenda.” Her eyes all but crackle with a furious defiance as she continues. “Aliens have- and rightfully deserve- the same rights that we humans enjoy and often take for granted. Being different is not synonymous with being bad, or evil, or whatever else these so-called ‘pro-human’ groups are saying. This device is meant to save lives, alien and human _alike_ , not endanger them.”

 

“That sounds very… noble, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

 

“Being ‘noble’ has nothing to do with it. Everyone deserves a chance at a fresh start, and some of our extra-terrestrial citizens have traveled a long way to secure one. L-Corp and myself don’t plan on helping anyone take that away.”

 

Kara reaches out to switch off the recorder and tuck it into her purse almost robotically, still semi-entranced by the woman in front of her. “Th-thank you, Lena,” she stammers out, breathless for reasons she can’t quite explain, “I think that’s more than enough for the article.”

 

She stands up, feeling considerably lighter than she’s felt in a long time. There’s something contagious about Lena’s spark, the fire that glows in her eyes, the electricity that fairly dances off of her skin.

 

Lena Luthor burns with the kind of ferocity and conviction that makes her seem almost _unreal_ , bright in a way that makes even the sunlight shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her pale in comparison.

 

“Thank you, Kara, for giving me the chance to take the reins on this interview. Most reporters come here with a very specific set of questions meant to… Well, meant to box me in and make me sound like whoever it is they want me to appear to be in their writing.” Lena gets to her feet and stretches out a hand, smiling once more. “You let me be clear about what it is that myself and my company stand for in spite of the controversy this device has been causing.”

 

“It was my pleasure, Lena. To be honest, this is going to be my first article. I’m glad I got someone as wonderful as you to interview.”

 

She laughs, and the sound of it is music to Kara’s ears.

 

“I know you’ll do me justice.”

 

Her hand’s just barely brushed the polished knob of the door when Lena calls out from behind her.

 

“Kara?”

 

She spins on her heel, turning so quickly that she just barely avoids falling.

 

“Yes?”

 

Lena bites her lip, looking mildly apprehensive, and the expression is jarring to witness. Even though she’s spent all of ten minutes with the woman, surety seems to be one of her defining traits.

 

“Would you-” She pauses, once again tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, the sight of which Kara _knows_ she’ll never be able to forget. “I know it might be more than a little inappropriate, but, well, when you’re finished with your article… Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

 

Kara freezes, and Lena must take it as a sign of rejection, because she hurries to speak before Kara can recover enough to open her mouth.

 

“As-as friends, of course,” Lena stutters, cheeks turning the palest shade of pink, “I just-“

 

“I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

The hours leading up to dinner become an interesting affair.

 

Kara had made the mistake of telling Winn, who could never keep a secret from Alex, who couldn’t resist the urge to inform Maggie, who took gleeful pleasure in plotting ways to abuse the government resources of not one, but _two_ branches of law enforcement to run multiple background checks on Lena with the aid of J’onn-

 

All of whom are now in Kara’s apartment, along with Lucy Lane and James Olsen- the only friends of hers who hadn’t attempted to pry any further once learning of her scheduled dinner with the C.E.O. of L-Corp.

 

Lucy’s rifling through Kara’s closet under the bossy supervision of Alex, who continues to steal sips from Winn’s beer without remorse.

 

“ _Not_ that one- that cardigan belongs to a nunnery-” Alex neatly sidesteps the elbow jab aimed at her side as Kara voices a feeble protest.

 

She crosses her arms, a move that ends up looking much less imposing than she intends, given the fact that she’s wearing nothing more than a fluffy bathrobe at the moment.

 

“Blue,” Winn pipes up from his position, currently sprawled across Kara’s bed. “Or green. The interview Lena gave for _Teen Vogue_ a few years back had those listed as her favorite colors.”

 

Kara rolls her eyes in exasperation. “You’d all make excellent stalkers, you know that?” She plops down on an unoccupied corner of the bed with a huff. “Besides, it’s just a dinner between _friends_.”

 

“Lena’s bisexual,” Lucy calls out from the depths of Kara’s closet, sounding slightly muffled but no less enthusiastic, “So you’ve got a fair chance with her.”

 

“How did you even…” Kara shakes her head, sighing, “Never mind. I probably don’t want to know.”

 

“Know what?” Maggie strolls in, an open box of pizza balanced in her hands. She waggles her brows suggestively at Kara as she takes a seat at the little white vanity across the room from the bed.

 

“Nothing,” Kara says, just as Alex grins and heads over to snatch a slice of cheesy goodness from the box.

 

“Know how Lucy managed to find out that Lena’s bisexual,” she mumbles around a mouthful of pizza, winking at her girlfriend as she resumes her post by the closet.

 

“Something with sleeves, please,” Kara calls out to Lucy, now resigned to her fate to be annoyed to death by her friends, “I don’t want…”

 

She trails off, and the air in the room seems to thicken.

 

They all know about Kara’s past- the same way Kara knows about Winn’s homicidal father, Alex’s low self-esteem courtesy of her mother’s ultra-high expectations, Lucy’s over-controlling father, Maggie’s homophobic family, and so on and so forth.

 

Like calls to like, or so it seemed when it came to the motley group of people Kara now calls family.

 

Lucy doesn’t miss a beat. “No problem, Kara. Showing off your excellent biceps can wait until the third date.”

 

The others voice their agreement, and Kara’s heart swells to bursting with affection for her friends as the tension in the room dissolves amidst their laughter and teasing.

 

It doesn’t stop the scars on her wrists from suddenly itching, though, as her thoughts linger on the real reason most of her clothing is so conservative.

 

Winn nudges her with a sock-covered foot. “You okay there, champ?”

 

“Fine, just…” She frowns. “Lena’s just so… So _perfect_. I don’t want to mess this up.”

 

“Nobody’s perfect.” Winn shoots a lopsided grin in her direction. “But I get how you feel.”

 

She smiles, and he pats her leg with his foot a few times in a way that’s surprisingly comforting. “Thanks, Winn.”

 

* * *

 

For the next few weeks, Kara finds herself smiling and laughing more than she has in _years_.

 

Lena is kind and funny and effortlessly enchanting, the type of person that makes hours feel like minutes in their presence.

 

Going home after their dates always feels a little like returning to another reality altogether.

 

Somewhere along the line, weekly dinners and casual lunches had evolved into something more than friendship.

 

Everything goes well until it _doesn’t_.

 

Lillian Luthor breezes into town- an event that Alex will soon refer to as the arrival of the devil herself- and all the little things about Lena and her reluctance to talk about her family that Kara had filed away to bring up at a later date finally slides into place.

 

Kara finds her waiting in her office, smiling in a dead-eyed way that she’d become all-too familiar with during her time in the foster system.

 

“So,” she drawls, because there’s no other way to describe how the words just fall from her mouth like poisoned syrup, “You’re the girl my daughter’s allowed herself to be distracted with.”

 

“Excuse me?” In a few seconds, everything will become clear, but right now, the woman darkening her office is a stranger. “Who are you and how did you get into this building?”

 

“I’m Lillian Luthor, dear,” she says, something dark and inscrutable flashing in her eyes, glacial in comparison to Lena’s warm, steady gaze, “Lena’s mother.”

 

And something in Kara’s stomach _drops_ at her words, leaving her equal parts unsettled and wary as she does her best to return Lillian’s icy stare.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, launch Lillian Luthor into the sun.


	2. smother the light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't expect a lot of readers, or such overwhelmingly positive response to this story.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos, and hugs to everyone who left a review.
> 
> It really means a lot, because this story was a hard one to share. :)

Of all the people to be Kara’s white knight in the face of the menace that is Lillian Luthor, Cat Grant is the last person she expects to fill that role.

 

Not that she doesn't expect Cat to intervene on her behalf, even Kara knows at this point that she’s got a soft spot for her former assistant, it’s just-

 

She doesn't expect it to happen quite so _spectacularly_.

 

It's been barely five minutes since Kara walked into her own office and found herself feeling unsafe at CatCo for the first time when someone finally opens the door. She nearly cries with relief at the sound of the knob turning.

 

This job has been more than Kara’s source of income- it's been her source of strength. The presence of Lena's mother and the words that come spilling out of her mouth makes her feel _small_ in ways she hasn't been for years.

 

Cat’s eyes flash murderously at the sight of Lillian- or perhaps at the sight of Kara’s faltering façade of calm- and the media mogul is striding forward in a way that suddenly reminds Kara of the nature documentaries she watches on the _National Geographic Channel_ during the nights when she can't sleep, where some viciously fierce predator stalks forward towards its hapless prey.

 

“Miss zor-El,” she starts, and the way she's reverted to using Kara’s last name tells her that this is most definitely not the Cat Grant who shares her M&Ms and gives damn good advice. This is the Cat Grant who could reduce even the most hardened criminals to tears with the mere force of her glare, “Is there a problem here?”

 

“Hardly,” Lillian smirks, looking very much like the cat that ate the canary, “I was just introducing myself to my daughter’s latest dalliance. Mousy little thing, honestly.”

 

She speaks as if Kara’s presence is as relevant as the potted plant in the corner of the room.

 

Cat’s lips thin, simmering with a rage that Kara can describe as no less than _homicidal_. “If your daughter’s currently involved with Miss zor-El- one of this company’s most valuable assets- then she's got excellent taste.”

 

“Is this coming from personal experience, Kitty?” Lillian sniffs, tilting her chin up as she draws herself up to her full height. “I suppose I should have guessed- you must have already sampled everything Miss zor-El has to offer-”

 

And that's when it happens.

 

That's when Cat Grant- calm, collected, endlessly poised _Cat Grant_ \- rears back and- with _perfect_ form, Kara will later dazedly recall- decks Lillian Luthor in the face with a right cross that sends the other woman reeling.

 

Kara's jaw falls open in shock as Cat calmly straightens out her blouse and smiles sweetly down at Lillian- now leaning heavily against Kara’s desk, eyes blazing with anger nearly as bright as the reddening mark on her cheek.

 

“You'd do well not to harass my employees in the future, Lillian.”

 

“M-miss Grant,” Kara stammers, still struggling to process the events of the past minute, “You d-didn't have to-”

 

“On the contrary, Kara, I did. No one can speak about my employees that way.” She nods towards the door. “Go to James Olsen’s office and inform him that we’ve had an unfortunate breach of security, and that I'm currently keeping an eye on our unwelcome intruder. And get Lucy Lane caught up on the details while you're at it.”

 

The steel in Cat's voice has Kara moving towards the door without any further protest.

 

* * *

 

Cat sends her home.

 

It's the last thing she wants to do, the last place she wants to be- _alone_ , after everything- but Kara’s hands shake so badly that the pen she tries to pick up doesn't even last more than a second in her grasp before falling back to her desk.

 

Michael, Cat’s personal chauffeur, drives her home.

 

It's a kind gesture, but Kara catches him checking on her- probably at Cat’s behest- through the rearview mirror enough times that even his gentle stare begins to grate on her already frayed nerves.

 

She pushes the door open before the car even comes to a full stop, takes off running into her building and doesn't stop until the deadbolt of her apartment door is locked behind her.

 

Kara sags against its sturdy surface, her legs far too shaky to carry her any further. She slides down to sit on the ground with little grace, ragged breaths scratching at her swollen throat as she gasps for air like a woman drowning.

 

Lillian’s voice rings in her ears.

 

Five minutes had been enough to engrave the sound of it into Kara’s mind.

 

_I know all about you, Kara zor-El._

 

Her dark gaze had flickered to Kara’s wrists, hidden beneath the sleeves of another of her sensible cardigans.

 

_In and out of foster homes your whole life._

 

She’d stepped forward, then, and it had taken almost every ounce of defiance in Kara’s bones to stop herself from taking a step back.

 

_Suicidal by sixteen._

 

Kara had flinched as though struck, and Lillian- Lillian had simply _laughed_.

 

_You aren't worthy of my daughter._

 

“Kara?” The voice that drags her out of the gaping maw of her traitorous thoughts is sweet and high and overflowing with concern.

 

Someone moves to kneel beside her.

 

She can't bring her eyes to focus through the haze of panic stifling her every sense to see who it is.

 

Cool hands brush her hair out of her face, straighten the glasses perched crookedly on her nose. She sucks in another desperate, gasping breath and recognizes the taste of cinnamon that hangs in the air.

 

 _Alex_.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she croons, still stroking Kara’s hair with one hand as she wraps her free arm around Kara’s waist, “Let’s get you to your room, alright?”

 

Kara tries hard to get her leaden limbs to cooperate, to be able to keep herself upright without aid, but fails miserably at the task. The most she can do is keep herself from collapsing back onto the floor as she leans against the other woman.

 

* * *

 

Alex is slender and small, but she's deceptively strong in spite of her build.

 

She moves towards Kara’s room with ease in spite of the extra weight- this is not the first time she’s had to half-carry her best friend somewhere safe, somewhere she can recover from the anxiety attacks that almost completely shut her mind and body down when they hit.

 

It’s not the first time, but she always, _always_ wishes it would be the last.

 

Kara didn't deserve any of this- not the depression or the pain or the deaths of her parents and the years of abuse that had followed afterwards.

 

It takes thirty minutes for Kara to finally, finally come back to herself.

 

Thirty minutes of Alex murmuring soothing nonsense into her ear and furiously texting Winn for information about why her roommate had come back from work almost as quickly as she’d left- and in the middle of a full-on breakdown to boot.

 

Only the knowledge that Kara needs her more than she needs to track down the sadistic bitch who put her in this state and pummel her into _paste_ keeps her from bolting out the front door the minute she manages to get through Winn’s convoluted explanation of the morning’s events via a choppy series of frantic texts.

 

She tucks Kara into bed and piles extra pillows high around the younger woman before going to the kitchen to fix her a cup of tea, silently seething the entire time.

 

One of the couch’s ridiculously fluffy pillows bears the brunt of her anger as she presses her face against it and screams.

 

The whole ordeal is messy and childish and leaves her mouth dry by the end of it, but at least there's nothing left in the back of her throat that will threaten to claw its way out when she returns to Kara’s room, two mugs of tea in her hands.

 

She doesn't smile, doesn't even pretend to, because they both know the truth.

 

Alex knows, and Kara knows that Alex knows, and it all goes ‘round and ‘round in a circle that leaves them dizzy just thinking about it but the point is that they _know_.

 

Alex knows and she is pissed that Kara got hurt, and she is pissed at _herself_ for not seeing it coming and stopping it.

 

(She's the resident expert on shitty mothers, she should have seen this coming _somehow_.)

 

Kara knows that Alex, as always, is blaming herself for something _completely_ out of her control.

 

And they both know that it’s useless to try and comfort the other now.

 

Kara’s hands start to tremble halfway through her cup of tea, and Alex bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood.

 

Alex pulls it away and sets it on the nightstand as quickly as she can, but it’s too late.

 

She turns back around and Kara is crying again, and something in her chest cracks a tiny bit more at the sound.

 

A quiet voice in her head wonders how much of her heart is left to even bother breaking.

 

She ignores it in favor of sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling Kara close, weaving her fingers through soft blonde curls and pressing kisses to the top of her head.

 

She ignores it in favor of Kara, because as much as she loves Maggie and as much as she loves everyone else in their ragtag band of misfits, Kara is the one person in the world who Alex’s heart would willingly break for.

 

If she could, she'd pull it out of her chest right now, smash it to slivers, and use the broken pieces to mend Kara’s own.

 

Her whole life has been a series of ‘if’s- if she’d scored higher on a test, if she’d placed better in a competition, if she could make her mother happy the way she so desperately wanted to in her youth-

 

But this is the only ‘if’ she knows she’d never have to linger on, the only ‘if’ she knows the outcome to with certainty.

 

Alex Danvers would die for Maggie, for Lucy, for Winn, and everyone else.

 

But Alex Danvers _lives_ \- and has forced herself to live- for Kara zor-El.

 

Kara is the purest thing she's ever known, the first person to truly see her and say that she's _enough_ in a way that actually let her believe it.

 

 _Sisters_ is too common a term to describe the bond they share, and besides, she's seen how sisterhood can fail.

 

(Lucy Lane’s eyes glaze over with pain every time she gets drunk enough to try talking about hers.)

 

 _Soulmates_ , she thinks, is a better word for it, a better way to describe the way they are inextricably linked.

 

(Who said soulmates had to be romantic, anyway?)

 

Kara falls asleep tucked against her shoulder, and for a brief, blissful stretch of time, everything feels _right_ , the way it used to before Alex’s dad died and the loving mother she used to have got replaced with the one she sees only a handful of times during the year.

 

Then her phone rings, and Alex remembers that it’s still the middle of the day and peace will always be a fleeting sensation for someone like her.

 

She takes care to ease Kara back into the middle of her pile of pillows, makes sure that she leaves a note explaining her absence beside a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen for the headache she knows that the other girl will wake up to later, and slips quietly out the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, kiss Cat Grant.
> 
> And yes- writing that bit was extremely satisfying. :)


	3. sun, stars, and scotch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell in love with this universe much faster and more deeply than I expected.
> 
> Please note- as it infers in the summary- that Lena is actually Lillian's biological daughter in this fic.
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Of all the people who have shown up to her office unannounced, the woman who introduces herself as Lucy Lane is, by far, the most effortlessly intimidating.

 

“Lane?” Lena echoes, because she’s all-too familiar with the surname she's seen plastered across the byline of almost every major story out of that damned newspaper in Metropolis, the _Daily Planet_. “Are you, by any chance, related to Lois Lane?”

 

“She's my sister,” she replies tersely, and Lena knows she’s hit a sore spot by the way the other woman’s shoulders tense at the mention of the reporter.

 

“Ah.” Lena narrows her eyes- Lucy, aside from her petite stature, appears to have little in common with her sibling in terms of looks. Lois is red-haired and paler than milk, while Lucy sports a healthy tan and dark hair to match her cat-like eyes.

 

“Different mothers,” she explains, having caught on to Lena’s train of thought with the ease of someone used to the weight of an unasked question hanging in the air.

 

“What can I do for you today, Miss Lane?”

 

“I'm here about Kara zor-El.” She pauses, and a look of pure, unadulterated anger flashes across her face for a moment before she visibly calms, apparently burying her rage beneath a smooth, business-like demeanor. “And what your mother did to her.”

 

Lena’s blood runs cold in her veins, ice slowly spreading through her chest, spiraling outward from her heart.

 

“M-my _mother_?” She asks this a little thickly, tongue suddenly heavy in her mouth.

 

“Yes. She trespassed onto CatCo property this morning, and made her way into Kara zor-El’s office, where she harassed Miss zor-El until our boss, Cat Grant, intervened.” Lucy’s lips twitch upwards at this, a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Were you aware of this encounter?”

 

She shakes her head, not trusting her voice enough to speak.

 

“Well, as Cat Grant’s counsel, I really shouldn't be meeting with you. After all,” she suddenly smirks, and Lena doesn't think she's seen anyone look quite so satisfied outside of a bedroom, “-my employer did leave your mother with quite the bruise. Lillian was trespassing, so we at CatCo aren't really concerned with the legal ramifications, as I'm sure you understand. Cat was merely defending her employee from an intruder on company grounds.”

 

Lena swallows with no small measure of difficulty as she moves across the room to fetch herself a glass of something stronger than water.

 

“If that’s the case, Miss Lane,” she says, after a long sip of scotch, “I have to ask- why are you here?”

 

“I'm here as Kara’s _family_ ,” Lucy snaps, and the ferocity that forms an almost tangible aura of protectiveness around her suddenly makes the family resemblance between the Lane sisters _strikingly_ clear.

 

“Is she alright?”

 

“Depends on your definition of the word. Physically, she’s unharmed, of course.”

 

“Yes, well,” Lena can't help the small, sad parody of a smile that her mouth twists into as her stomach churns at the thought of what her mother might have said. “Simple violence was never my mother’s favorite method of intimidation.”

 

The sharpness of Lucy’s glare softens marginally at the implications behind Lena’s words.

 

“The last time I saw Kara, her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't even hold a pen.” Lucy’s hands curl into fists at her sides. “Miss Grant sent her home for the rest of the day after what happened. I came here to tell you to stay _away_. Kara doesn't need a reminder of what happened today.”

 

“Oh.”

 

It’s the only sound she can coax out of her throat, soft and small and utterly _broken_.

 

Something shifts in the other woman’s eyes, and her fierce demeanor melts away like snow under the sun.

 

“Not forever,” she quickly amends, shifting her weight between her feet like she isn't sure if she should take a step forward or back. “Just for now. Until Kara’s better.”

 

Lucy Lane’s two steps past the threshold of her office door when she turns back and gives Lena a look that she can't quite decipher.

 

She figures it's the closest thing to an apology that Lucy will give her, and accepts it with a nod and the closest thing to a genuine smile as she can manage.

 

“You’re good for her,” she says, just a bit gruffly but loaded with a grudging respect all the same, before spinning back around and resuming her brisk stride down the hall.

 

_You’re good for her._

 

The phrase echoes in her ears as she presses down on the intercom and summons her secretary into the room.

 

“Jess, please cancel the rest of today’s appointments and set up a meeting with my mother.”

 

The secretary’s eyes widen ever so slightly at the request, fully aware of the strained relationship between the C.E.O. and her mother, but she doesn't hesitate, and Lena makes a mental note to give her a raise.

 

“Of course, Miss Luthor.” She’s already lifting a hand to activate the Bluetooth earpiece clipped under the fall of her hair as she moves back towards the door.

 

“Thank you, Jess.”

 

_You’re good for her._

 

Lena desperately hopes she won't make a liar out of Lucy Lane as she steels herself to see the woman she’s spent years of her life trying to escape.

 

She makes her way to the couch on wobbly legs, lies back against the plush cushions, and thinks of the words she wished she’d had the time to say to Lucy Lane before she'd slipped out of reach.

 

_'Good' is the one thing I'm not._

 

_But for her- for **Kara** \- I'll try._

 

* * *

 

Alex Danvers virtually materializes out of thin air in Cat’s office, dressed in an all-black outfit and equipped with her usual trademark glare.

 

How the other woman manages to move so silently, Cat resigns herself to the probability that she’ll never know.

 

A lesser person might have screamed at the sight of the federal agent now occupying her office, who cuts a strikingly imposing figure in spite of her doe eyes and tiny build, but Cat only pushes forward the bowl of M&Ms on her desk and gestures for her to take a seat.

 

“How's the hand?”

 

Alex Danvers was never one to beat around the bush- a trait that Cat has developed a fond admiration for over the years.

 

She smirks at the question, pushes her glasses up to rest on the top of her head, and shrugs. “A little sore, but I know how to throw a punch.”

 

“Damn straight.” A twinkle of pride glimmers in her brown eyes. “Thank you.”

 

“How’s Kara?”

 

“Sleeping, when I left, but that was a few hours ago.”

 

“Did she- was she-?” Cat’s usually not one to stutter, but her concern for Kara has her tripping over her words.

 

“She held it together until she got back to our place, then she was down for about half an hour.” Alex tosses a handful of M&Ms into her mouth and bites down so furiously that Cat finds it a miracle she doesn't choke.

 

“Drink, Miss Danvers?”

 

Alex rolls her eyes, and Cat stands to fetch them both a glass of some ridiculously expensive bourbon that some political big-shot had sent her in the hopes of persuading her to use her considerable influence to make him the golden boy of the masses.

 

She has no intention of using her power to do anything of the sort, but she's also not the type to turn down the gifts she's offered by idiots who don't know better than to try and bribe the queen of all media.

 

* * *

 

Alex likes Cat Grant.

 

She never expected to, but she does.

 

They've got enough differences between them to start a civil war, but what little they do have in common triumphs over everything else with ease.

 

Kara, of course, is the strongest thing that ties them together.

 

Toss in serious self-esteem issues courtesy of over-bearing mothers and it turns out that she and Cat Grant are much more alike than she’d initially thought.

 

She doesn't stay for long- now that her shift’s over and there's one less alien on the streets plotting world domination, every atom of her being is screaming for her to go home, to see Kara and make sure she’s alright.

 

So she does, waving away Cat’s offer to have her driven home with a laugh and another roll of her eyes.

 

It’s cold outside, even colder than it should be now that night has fallen, but Alex doesn't mind.

 

Her breath mists out in puffs of white as she breaks into a light jog back to the apartment. It doesn’t take her long to reach the building, but she lingers outside for several moments just to stare up at the stars.

 

Glittering harmlessly against the vast expanse of inky sky, always out of reach but so rarely out of sight, the stars have always been a minor fascination for Alex Danvers.

 

She drinks in the sight of their light, faint in comparison to the brilliance of the sun but no less beautiful, no less radiant, and allows herself a small, satisfied smile.

 

Then she walks into the building lobby, raises a hand to greet the familiar face of the night watchman, and heads upstairs to check on the woman whose smile is a sun of its own.

 

* * *

 

Lucy Lane gets herself well and truly _hammered_ before she even considers heading home.

 

She stumbles through the door and doesn't give a fuck where her purse lands when she flings it in the direction of the living room.

 

James is waiting for her in the kitchen, sitting at the island in the middle with an expression that borders on the wrong edge of pity, and it pisses her off.

 

“What?” She growls out, slinking towards the cabinets to pull out a glass she fills with water from the fridge. “I'm _fine_.”

 

“I didn't say anything, Luce.” His tone is perfectly calm, perfectly even, and the simple, practiced neutrality of his gaze makes her veins itch.

 

“You didn't have to.”

 

“Are you going to tell me what's bothering you or not?” He levels a sharp look in her direction, and she mentally curses him for knowing her so well, for not rising to the bait, for not picking the fight she’s so carefully laying out, for everything, _everything_ -

 

Especially for being ridiculously patient and forgiving and putting up with her, of all people.

 

Lucy Lane knows full well just how much she _doesn't_ deserve James Olsen.

 

It's one of the last things her sister had told her, shouted at her, during their last screaming match before Lucy had packed her bags and disappeared, shrouded herself in the weight of words like ‘duty’, ‘honor’, and ‘service’, and emerged after four years of radio silence with shiny-new shrapnel scars and gold leaf insignia on her shoulders.

 

_“Just because he's your boyfriend’s best friend doesn't mean you can tell either of us what to do!”_

 

_They're both yelling at this point, and Lois’ cheeks are bright red with exertion as she rages back at her sister. By some stroke of luck, this argument started after-hours, otherwise the employees of the Daily Planet would be getting front-row seats to the latest installment of the Lane sisters’ grudge match._

 

_“Jimmy Olsen is a good man! I don't want to see him get hurt!”_

 

_There it is, the righteous indignation that Lucy’s been choking on her whole life, practically oozing from her sister’s pores. It makes something in the pit of her stomach burn hotter, pouring lighter fluid on a fire that's already burning viciously._

 

_“His name is **James** , Lois! He's not a kid anymore!”_

 

_“Neither are you!”_

 

_Lucy freezes for a second, a flicker of hurt briefly overtaking the anger in her eyes before a carefully cultivated mask of pure fury slides down over her face, locking away all other emotion somewhere far below the surface, way out of reach for anyone to touch without getting burned by the flames that obscure it from view._

 

_“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”_

 

_“You're going to break his heart and you know it.” Lois shakes her head, a mournful expression crossing her features as she regards Lucy with her pretty, jewel-like eyes. They fairly glow with the same unwavering stare that she uses like knives against warlords in feuding countries and drug kingpins right here in the city. “You don't deserve someone like him.”_

 

Lucy had ended up taken her sister’s words to heart that night.

 

She'd stormed home, stuffed the bare essentials into a backpack, and vanished into the familiar rhythm of the army’s inner workings without a word of warning to anyone, least of all James.

 

He was the last person she expected to see on her doorstep after the end of her latest tour, but he'd still shown up, still looked at her with those warm, dark eyes, still said her name in the same _breathless_ , _reverent_ whisper-

 

And she'd found herself unable to turn him away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hands if you're looking forward to the confrontation between Lillian and Lena...
> 
> Also, can I just say that Lucy Lane deserved better- and still does- so you can expect to see me giving her the time and spotlight that she should have been given on the show here instead.
> 
> Leave a review, get some of Cat Grant's M&Ms.


	4. we'll drown together in this sea of sorrows (no one ever taught us how to swim)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up right where we left off- with Lucy Lane.
> 
> Just for anyone wondering: Lucy, James, and Maggie are all 28, Alex is 27, and Winn, Kara, and Lena are all 26. 
> 
> Oh, and they've all been listed from oldest to youngest here, so while they may be the same age, the order denotes who was born first in the years they were born. (Ex.- Lucy is older than James, who is older than Maggie, and so on and so forth.) 
> 
> We are not even going to try and touch Cat Grant or J'onn J'onzz's ages... Suffice it to say, they are old enough. Plus, Cat would find it rude to disclose a lady's age and I'm not ready to be murdered in my bed by the Queen of All Media.
> 
> Enjoy!

Lucy Lane does what she does to protect people.

 

It's what she has always done, what she has been raised to do, the one thing she learns from her father that she doesn't wish she could scrub from her brain.

 

_This We’ll Defend._

 

It’s the army motto, and by the time she’s old enough to talk, she's heard it enough to have committed it to memory.

 

(So what if no one defends her from the toe of her father's boot or the back of his hand? She'll learn to defend herself- and everyone else- when she's older.)

 

She grows up in the shadow of her sister- pretty, perfect Lois.

 

(Lois will never know the way it feels to be hit by a parent, to pick herself off of the ground tasting blood in her mouth from the weight of their father's fist.)

 

Model student, model daughter, model everything.

 

Lois’ mother, their father’s first wife, died in childbirth.

 

Lucy’s mother took off before she was even a month old, dropping her daughter off on the doorstep of the man she’d spent a single night with nine months ago and fleeing back to her native Dominican Republic.

 

It was hard enough taking second place to her older sister in their father’s heart, but harder still to grow up as the sole mixed-race child in a white neighborhood.

 

She doesn’t know much about her mother, aside from the fact that she was of Lebanese-Dominican descent and the source of most of Lucy’s looks.

 

Oh, sure, Lois had gotten her fair share of teasing for having a half-sister who looked nothing like her, but Lucy was the one who actually had to face the reality that most of her peers thought her _less_ simply by virtue of her heritage.

 

She fights tooth and nail to make a name for herself that isn’t Lane.

 

Lucy skips a grade, joins activities like debate club and Model U.N., signs up for track & field in the winter and lacrosse in the spring, and fills the rest of her time volunteering around the community.

 

People begin to call her an overachiever.

 

(So what if the real reason she has so many extracurriculars is so that she can avoid going home? What happens behind closed doors is nothing they’ll ever know.)

 

She snaps at anyone who dares to call her ‘little Lane’ and hones her claws until people get the message that she isn't someone to be trifled with.

 

By the time Lucy enters high school, she’s already a prime candidate for the National Honors Society.

 

Four years later, she graduates valedictorian, breezing through her AP classes and ending her senior year with a 4.8 GPA.

 

When they call her to the stage, it's no longer under the shadow of her older sister’s accomplishments.

 

(So what if she has to spend three hours covering up the bruises that her father’s latest drunken rampage has left her with? Lucy’s always had a knack for makeup anyway.)

 

She ends up graduating from West Point with a Bachelor’s Degree in Science in a single year as opposed to four, thanks to those A.P. courses and summer programs she took. At nineteen years of age, she just might be the youngest person to leave West Point for reasons other than expulsion.

 

From there, she’s commissioned as a second lieutenant in the Army with five years of service ahead of her. She works hard, gets her J.D and LL.M degrees through accelerated online courses as she rises through the ranks, because even if she doesn't believe in her father, she believes in the one good thing he managed to teach her.

 

_This We’ll Defend._

 

Lucy passes the bar exam with flying colors and becomes one of the youngest JAG Officers the Army’s ever seen at the age of twenty-two, three years into her five-year contract with the military.

 

She’s stationed stateside at this point, the legal attaché of her father’s staff, living on the army base just outside Metropolis.

 

This is no coincidence- Sam Lane’s personal vendetta against a certain Kryptonian means that as long as she’s part of her father’s team, she’ll likely spend all of her active duty waiting for Superman to step out of line.

 

This is how she meets James Olsen.

 

(She’s twenty-four and full of fire and he's the first person who doesn’t mind the fact that she’s made of steel and flames.)

 

Like every other good thing in her life, it ends with the aid of her always well-meaning sister, and she requests a transfer out of her father's unit so she can spend the next four years buried in the depths of the military, hoping that ~~James~~ _everyone_ will stop looking and finally write her off as lost.

 

She’d only signed a five-year contract for active duty, but military service means a minimum of eight years, and gladly agrees to spend the three years she could be in the inactive reserves (I.R.R.) in the field where she belongs. The Army lets her, partly because she’s Sam Lane’s daughter, but mostly because she's one of the best damn officers they've ever seen.

 

Lucy spends those years in places that are hot and dusty and full of I.E.D.s and by the time she returns to the states and moves to National City, she’s earned the rank of ‘major’ and enough scars to last her a lifetime.

 

Now she’s twenty-eight, one year out of service and a member of the group they've affectionately nicknamed the ‘SuperSquad’, utilizing her law degrees as the head of Legal Affairs at CatCo, and there's nowhere else she thinks she’ll ever want to be.

 

She’s still as fucked up and broken as ever, but she has found herself a home in this city, in these people, and she’ll be damned if she ever gives it up.

 

There are times when she looks in the mirror and can barely stand the fact that she’s missing so many pieces of herself, but she'd lost most of those pieces long ago, before James and before the Army, so it's a burden whose weight she's used to carrying.

 

No one else in her newfound family is exactly _whole_ either, so she knows they'll never mind.

 

Lucy Lane does what she does to protect people.

 

 _Especially_ the people she loves.

 

So when she goes to Lena Luthor’s office and tells her to keep her distance, she reminds herself that it’s all to keep Kara safe as she tries not to cry at the sight of the other woman’s face when it crumples at her words.

 

(She's sure that her own face might have once mirrored Lena’s, during the early days of her youth, when the concept of abuse was still new to her and she hadn't yet learned how to hide her emotions away.

 

It proves to be an exercise in futility, in the end.

 

No matter how deep she managed to bury her emotions from the world, she never could quite manage to do it well enough so that she would be as unfeeling as she made herself seem.)

 

Afterwards, she does her best to drink herself into oblivion because she still hurt someone, and even if it was to protect another person, the pain she’s caused is still another tally mark in her ledger.

 

It's for this very same reason that on military holidays, or whenever she gets congratulated for her time in the Army, she goes out and downs a shot for every life she ever took overseas.

 

May will always be a very rough month for her.

 

Surprisingly, she's only ever gotten blackout drunk on one spectacular occasion- her first Memorial Day in National City.

 

To this day, Lucy doesn't think she's ever seen James as angry as he had been, then.

 

She'd managed to keep a lid on her drinking for the first few months after her discharge, or, at the very least, make sure James wasn't aware of the full extent of her nighttime habits, but Memorial Day had fucked that up on an epic scale.

 

Now, she finds him waiting up for her more often that she doesn't.

 

Which is why he's currently having a one-sided staring contest with her as she guzzles down a glass of water for the headache she knows she’ll have tomorrow if she doesn't hydrate.

 

“Nothing's wrong,” she says, but they both know it’s a lie and the words leave a bitter taste in her mouth that all the water in her glass can't wash away.

 

 _Just like blood_ , she thinks, and something beneath her ribs gives a painful little twinge at the thought.

 

“Lucy, _please_.” He's pleading now, and she's just so, so _tired_ -

 

“I feel like my father,” she confesses lowly, lets the words slide out in a whisper nearly as broken as she is, leaning heavily on the edge of the marble countertop that stands between them. “I don't want to be like my father-”

 

Her throat closes up around the words she longs to say and she shatters right then and there, ten at night and in the kitchen of apartment they share, the home they've tried to build for themselves.

 

She shatters-

 

_Please don't let me be him._

 

-but, as always-

 

_Never, Lucy, never. You are **nothing** like him._

 

-he's there to put her back together again.

 

(And that, _that_ is why Lucy Lane will never stop loving James Olsen.

 

He is the first person to see her for what is, not who she pretends to be, the first to not shy away from the fact that she's far from perfect, and that 'normal' is something she'll never be.)

 

* * *

 

For the first decade of his life, Winslow Schott Jr. is proud to bear his father’s name.

 

Until his father kills six people with a bomb disguised as a teddy bear, and he finds himself being sent to live with his distant relatives just after Christmas, the holiday he will quickly grow to hate because of the massacre he will never be allowed to forget.

 

He drops the ‘Jr.’ then, shortens ‘Winslow’ to ‘Winn’ and tries to pretend like he's never been called anything else.

 

His eleventh birthday passes, and he lets the date slide by without reminding anyone because he has court to attend next week and he doesn't have the stomach to celebrate anything, let alone the day he was born to a man who would become a _killer_.

 

He discovers the wonders of alcohol in high school, when one of his friends throws him an unwanted party for turning sixteen. He spends every birthday after that somewhere dimly lit and vaguely warm, where he tries his best to replace all the blood in his veins with alcohol so that he wouldn't have to be related to the man who murdered with such terrible, terrible ease.

 

The years pass, and Winn is careful to keep himself in check- he’s never been quick to anger, but then again, neither had his father, and the man had gone on to massacre six people with a bomb hidden inside a teddy bear, of all things.

 

Even feeling the vaguest hint of irritation is enough to fill his veins with a paralyzing fear that _this is it_ , that he is going to snap and go down the same dark path as his father.

 

So he does his best to stay calm, stay sane, no matter what.

 

Bullies tear his homework out of his hands, and he doesn't allow himself to do anything but walk away.

 

A teacher accuses him of cheating when his test scores for the district’s latest computerized assessment outstrip every other student in the state, and he denies these claims in front of the principal with nothing but neutrality in his veins.

 

A decade slips by, and he graduates from M.I.T. at the top of his class, gets a job at CatCo Worldwide Media, and the world seems like it has decided to let Winn out from under the shadow of his namesake’s crimes. For the first time since he woke up to the sound of sirens outside of his house, Winn finds himself hopeful that he’ll be able to live a life untainted by the gruesome memory of the deaths of half a dozen people.

 

Then he wakes up one morning and turns on the news just in time to learn that his father has broken out of prison and gone on another killing spree.

 

He just barely manages to get to work on time after nearly having to fight his way through the dozens of reporters waiting outside his apartment building.

 

Cat summons him into her office, takes one long look at him, and slides a crystal bowl of candy across her desk. He sits down, coming close enough to see that the bowl is filled with Skittles, not M&Ms- _his_ favorite, not hers- and that's all it takes for him to finally let go of the tears he’s been holding back since he switched on the television.

 

CatCo covers the story without a single mention of the Toyman’s son.

 

She calls him into her office again, just before he heads home, and tells him that he doesn't have to worry about anyone bothering him from then on.

 

Rumors spread like wildfire among the employees of the media circuit that confirm his suspicions about the fate of the reporters she’d curtly informed him wouldn't be seen again.

 

He doesn't know how she does it- and he knows well enough not to ask- but every single reporter who had stood out on the steps of his building and harassed him to near tears is jobless and black-listed by every serious media outlet by the end of that week.

 

It doesn't stop him from scrubbing his skin raw in the shower for a week afterwards at the memory of their probing questions and taunts, the worst of which being an offhanded comment about the ‘family resemblance’, but it _helps_.

 

Winn confesses all of this- every single repressed emotion, unspoken thought, _everything_ \- to the one person who understands exactly what it feels like to lose someone so close to their hearts.

 

It's not James- everyone he’d ever loved is still living.

 

Nor is it Maggie- her parents had kicked her out simply for being gay, there was no love lost between them.

 

It's not Kara and Lucy either.

 

Kara and Lucy have both lost parents, just not the way that he had. Lucy had never known her mother, and she'd never loved her father. Kara hadn't had the chance to know her parents at all, let alone love them. She loved what they could have been, what they could have had, but she was robbed of the opportunity to love them for who they were.

 

But Alex- Alex had loved her father, just like Winn once loved his.

 

She knows how it feels to have that love torn away.

 

So Winn confesses everything to Alex, who holds other people’s secrets just as well as her own.

 

Later that year, and every year after that, Father’s Day will roll around and Alex Danvers will show up on his doorstep with a bottle of bitter liquor in hand and a sardonic smile plastered across her features.

 

They cry and they rage and so _what_ if Alex nearly puts her fist through his living room wall one year; they are _coping_ and this is _how_.

 

Sometime after the booze has run out and they've run out of tears to shed, they'll curl up together in Winn’s bed, an embrace fostered out of their shared agony and a desire for the simple comfort of human contact. He’ll have his head tucked under her chin, face pressed against her neck as he struggles to control his hitched breathing. Alex will wrap an arm around his shoulders and allow him to curl his arms around her waist and squeeze as hard as he can until he falls asleep.

 

The first time they do this, the first time they gather to wallow in this misery they have in common, it takes Alex the better part of an hour and nearly half a bottle of tequila before she can choke out a tearful confession of her own about just how alone her father’s death had made her feel, _still_ makes her feel.

 

Winn’s father isn't dead but he might as well be, so he reaches out with a boldness he'd almost forgotten having and pulls her across the couch to let her stifle her sobs in the cotton of his favorite _Firefly_ shirt.

 

He meets Kara first, falls head-over-heels for the beautiful girl with the beautiful soul. It never goes anywhere, though, and his infatuation fades with time as their friendship solidifies into something bright and strong.

 

But he grows to love Alex just as deeply, if not more so.

 

Kara is a light, a shining beacon of strength and hope and _heart_ , but Alex is safe port in a dark sea, and sometimes what he needs is a harbor in the darkness, a chance to greet the shadows he's spent most of his life in and Alex understands this in ways that no one else can.

 

Kara has fallen into the shadows, but it has never stained her soul the way it taints theirs, and for that, Winn and Alex are glad. Kara's light is the very definition of strength, and it's something they all pray she'll never lose.

 

She is the sun, and they, the night that makes the fills the spaces in between. This is the balance that pulls them all together and keeps them from falling apart.

 

He would do anything for them, and they for him, so when Alex calls him in the morning and tells him he has Cat Grant’s blessing to work from Kara’s apartment so long as he makes sure that she's okay after everything that happened yesterday, he goes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was cut short due to technical difficulties (read: my evil writing app erasing most of my work), so Lillian and Lena's confrontation has been pushed back a chapter because I wanted to at least get something published for you guys today... I'm really sorry to those of you who were looking forward to seeing it in this chapter. :/
> 
> Moving on...
> 
> Why does May suck for Lucy Lane? Well, for those of you who aren't familiar with U.S. holidays, it’s National Military Appreciation Month.
> 
> Her part of this chapter was the hardest to write. This is an AU, but I do try to stay as close to canon as possible in terms of the histories of these characters. 
> 
> For starters, after some research about the military, I have absolutely no fucking idea how Lucy Lane is supposed to be someone in her early twenties, a military major, and a high-ranking JAG Officer to boot. (Supergirl makes it seem like most of the main cast are of/around the same age range.) Like… The sheer amount of requirements to even qualify for that position… So, I made Lucy a chronic overachiever who skipped a grade, basically flew through the rest of the educational process, and, oh yeah, an age that is slightly more realistic than the fresh-eyed early twenty-something year old that they market pretty much everyone on the show to be. Secondly, Jenna Dewan-Tatum is of partial Lebanese descent, due to her father, so I threw that in for good measure because after casting Amy Adams as the live-action Lois Lane (who this fic is sticking with btw, idc that it's for the movie-verse and not the tv one, she's the only Lois Lane we’ve got), who thought they could pass for sisters? Lol, nope…
> 
> Plus, POC erasure is shitty as fuck and after the big ol’ shitstorm that was casting an Italian woman to play a canon Latinx character (I love Flo and Sanvers, but… Come on, casting staff, wtf???) I made Lucy Lane a canon POC in this fic. Jenna Dewan-Tatum is a mix of a bunch of ethnicities, so I decided to use that. (See: http://ethnicelebs.com/jenna-dewan-tatum) It doesn't appear as though her maternal grandmother is actually of Dominican descent, but that's where she was born and raised so I used it as Lucy’s mother’s country of origin.
> 
> If you are not a POC and you've got a problem with any of this, you can kindly fuck right off, because… Well, that should be fairly self-explanatory. I’m here for POC awareness, bitches.
> 
> Winn/Alex brOTP?
> 
> I know you love it.
> 
> I love it too.
> 
> Aside from Lucy, the rest of the chapter was considerably easier to get through. She's one of my favorites, so the struggle was worth it.
> 
> And yes, Cat Grant is very much the unofficial mom of the squad. :) 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading about this universe as much as I enjoy writing about it. 
> 
> I wish the Supergirl writers would flesh out the supporting cast more, but since season two was wasted on prioritizing someone who literally got yeeted into outer space and sucked into a whirly space vortex, I’m taking it upon myself to do their jobs for them. :D
> 
> Leave a review, cuddle the SuperSquad. :)
> 
> Also, this is probably the longest note you'll see from me in this fic. Sorry for ranting, it's just that POC erasure really gets to me. 
> 
> But now that I've ranted my heart out, author's notes after this should be back their usual length. :p


End file.
